


Out of a Myth

by parttimefemmefatale (writingramblr)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (TV Movie 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Female Character In Command, Femdom, Gender Role Reversal, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Minor Violence, Pirates of the Caribbean References, Sexual Content, captured by pirates, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/parttimefemmefatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pirates.</p><p>This is what Admiral Smith faces on just another average day.</p><p>However, though he's heard much about the dreaded Bad Wolf, he's never come face to face with the pirate.</p><p>Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Endelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endelda/gifts), [nenya_kanadka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nenya_kanadka/gifts), [aeonish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonish/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: though i've tagged it you can't be too careful...
> 
> the story gets violent and dark real quick, then sort of turns into seduction/smutty whoknowswhat  
> be warned.  
> I'm not actually a big violence writer, but if you have a good imagination...be careful.
> 
> p.s. thanks to Aeonish for re-blogging the photo in question, or I never would have seen it :D

There was never a guarantee of getting to return to the warmth of one’s cot at night. In daylight, sometimes battles had to be fought.

Winning was entirely a different matter.

No one knew this better than Admiral Smith.

He’d looked through his scope and seen the blood red and coal black flag, marked with the symbol of Bad Wolf, the most blood thirsty pirate on the seven seas, and he’d fought with himself to remain composed. It took all his pride to keep from apologizing to his men.

Who knew how many of them would live to see a new dawn?

Once the fight had begun, and before the pirates boarded his ship, he prayed for a quick death. A brave one, but quick.

The pirates yelled and ran for him, and he stood firm.

***

Captain Tyler, better known as the commander of the ship Tardis, and her alias of Bad Wolf sat in the galley below decks, listening as her crew raged and ravaged the large Navy vessel they’d come upon in neutral waters.

She smiled faintly to herself as she heard them cheer.

They’d taken the ship, and with no major damage to it, she could finally grant her worthy first mate, Jack Harkness, his own vessel.

Soon she would have an entire navy all of her own.

She whistled and her hawk flew down from the rafters, coming to a halt by landing on her outstretched arm.

A hardened leather glove protected her skin from his sharp claws.

“Shall we go meet our new prisoners?”

She spoke softly to the bird, who merely eyed her silently in reply.

Often she allowed several of a captured crew to live, just long enough to spread the tale of how they’d been attacked by pirates, specifically those flying her colors.

Most times she poisoned them so they could reach shore, and think they were safe. Until death claimed them in their sleep.

***

Admiral Smith had never faced danger like this before.

He was forced to his knees, sword blade at his throat, and was informed he would be meeting the Captain, Bad Wolf themselves, before he died.

He couldn’t say he was thrilled at the prospect, but if it meant living a bit longer, and perhaps having a small chance of getting off the pirates ship alive, he would relish the chance.

The fact that the pirates used a deadly combination of swords and pistols alarmed him. If only he could get a message back to the Navy, of how the pirate threat was no longer a simple nuisance, a fly to be swatted, they were full blown parasites.

The entire world could be destroyed if they were not stopped.

“Eyes forward!”

The man whose blade was against his skin nudged him forward slightly, and he nearly apologized. He’d not realized he’d been staring in vain into the horizon.

The sun was beginning to set, and at any other time he would have appreciated the beauty of such a thing, but this time, he could not.

“Captain on deck!”

The savage crew bellowed, and the Admiral looked around to catch a glimpse of the feared Bad Wolf.

He saw someone wearing dark tattered clothing, with their hands on a long curved blade, face hidden beneath a black hat with a great brim.

Heavy boots thumped on the deck, and every step shook the Admiral to his very core.

A quick death might be too much to hope for. He’d heard the stories. He knew anyone who was set free did not live very long.

***

Captain Tyler eyed the small group of prisoners, and dismissed the majority of them. Several of them kept glancing at the man Jack had in front of him. A smile formed over the Captain’s lips.

So this was their leader, their commander.

How far had the mighty fallen?

With a simple wave of her hand, the crew followed the Captain’s orders, and slit the throat of all the prisoners, all but one.

Their leader.

The shout of agony that fell from his lips was enough to drive an invisible stake through the Captain’s heart, black though it was claimed to be, and her hand waved again, only seconds from shaking.

“Stop.”

The bodies were dragged away, and thrown overboard with no ceremony.

Jack instantly returned to the Captain’s side, and pointed to the former commander, who had collapsed onto the deck, body intact, but his mind clearly broken by the sight of his crew’s demise.

“What should we do with him?”

“Take him to my chambers.”

Jack might have smiled at his Captain, but then again, it could have been a trick of the light.

“And his ship?”

“It is yours. You’ve earned it.”

***

Admiral Smith, was nothing.

John felt he did not deserve his title, or his hat, the fallen sword and empty pistol on the far decks, and certainly not the trust his men had put in him. He had let them down. In the end, he’d as good as killed them.

As Bad Wolf’s men dragged him away from the decks still wet with his men’s blood, he could only curse and shout at the heavens.

All the good his praying had done.

When he was finally left alone, although almost certainly under heavy guard, only then did he break down and weep for them.

His hands carded through his hair, as if the pain might convince him that this was truly happening. Or perhaps he would wake to find it had all been a mad fever induced dream.

But no.

It wasn’t.

He’d heard murmurs. Whispers. He knew where he was. Where he’d been brought. It was no brig. It was the Captain’s quarters.

Perhaps he preferred to poison his prisoners by offering them a last meal. Or a decanter of rum.

Now, with nothing to lose, he would not waste the chance to get revenge. What else did he have to live for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy cow i had not planned this thing to be a huge drabble ficlet. It was supposed to be a little thing to show a completely weird AU justice. Now i just feel horribly naughty for what i've done to darling Eight.  
> but yet...it's so wrong it's right?  
> ehhh.  
> I've tagged it role reversal because generally feared pirates aren't girls, and the men don't usually get captured. So yeah.  
> this was me taking this little prompt and RUNNING AWAY with it.
> 
> http://littlewhomouse.tumblr.com/post/85956616552/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vibrates with nerves*

Captain Tyler, Bad Wolf, or formerly known in another life as the Golden Rose, shed her large black hat, and let her hair fall down freely.

The setting sun caught in the strands, and seemed to light them on fire as she left the captured ship and returned to her Tardis.

“Is he in there?”

“Yes Cap’n.”

“Did you bring him something to eat?”

“No Cap’n. Are you sure you can handle ‘im?”

Her answering glare had a name of its own as well. The withering look of the captain, known as the Oncoming Storm. Coined as such for the notion that any of her crew would rather face the unknown wrath of an Oncoming Storm than risk her rage.

With a swift kick, the door to her cabin flew inward with a loud crash, and she saw the cowering form of the captured captain.

A smile twisted around her mouth, and she tried not to relish the look of terror in his eyes,

“Hello. Can I get you anything to drink?”

***

To John, it seemed as if the angel of death had finally come for him. Maybe when he hadn’t been paying attention, the Captain had stabbed him through the heart, and now he was being sent for from heaven.

In the doorway stood the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Well, she looked barely to be a woman. She had flowing blond waves surrounding an honest open face, and hazel eyes that seemed to stare right through him.

He didn’t even care what she was saying, for all he cared she could be condemning him to eternal hellfire.

“Please.”

The only word he could form fell from his lips, and as she walked towards him, he could no longer look at her, it was much too frightening.

A hand stroked over his cheek, and brushed the sweat soaked hair from his brow,

“What’s your poison?”

***

Rose was amused that he seemed to be in some sort of trance. Perhaps the shock and fatigue was getting to him. Seeing his men slaughtered hadn’t undone him, but the sight of her had.

She couldn’t keep from touching him, and when she revealed more of his face, she was struck by how handsome he was. Surely a man like him would have someone missing him. Maybe even a family who’d be left fatherless.

And yet…she couldn’t find a single bone that cared.

“Come now. You must be thirsty. Or perhaps you would prefer to wash up first? I’ll allow you to bath before me. Not many men can say that.”

He frowned, and the handsome face of his contorted in confusion.

She waved a hand at the large copper tub that sat across the room from them.

“I can have water heated for a bath like that.”

She snapped the fingers of her right hand in his face, and something in his eyes changed.

“Ah. There you are.”

She murmured, as he looked around the room fully for the first time.

“Who are you?”

The words fell from his mouth, so quietly, if they hadn’t been alone, Rose wouldn’t have heard him.

“Bad Wolf.”

Her lips caressed the words, for she was it. The deadly bloodthirsty most feared pirate on the planet. He looked utterly lost for a few moments, before he came to his senses, and had lunged to his feet.

She wasn’t worried.

She still had an ace up her sleeve.

***

John felt as if he’d been shot. Or stabbed.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, and couldn’t think.

This woman, his angel of death, she was _the_ Bad Wolf?

“I think you’ll find that’s not so.”

He’d not realized he’d said the last bit aloud, or that he was on his feet and ready to squeeze the life from her lungs in an instant.

She merely blinked at him, her eyes wide and open, and her mouth slack, as his hands tightened around her neck.

Either she’d been in this situation before, or she was used to holding her breath, for she didn’t appear to be worried at all.

Then he noticed how her hands were moving.

Slipping into her left boot and under her left arm, until he was facing a knife in the gut, and a pistol to the head.

His arms went slack, and he moved away from her.

“Why?”

The torture in his voice was evident, though she’d not laid a finger on him. Her eyes gleamed and her mouth smiled when she spoke,

“Pirate.”

***

He’d gone and done it. Done his best. Attempted to kill her.

She admired his pluck.

She was growing extremely impatient. If he didn’t want to take her offer of a bath, she’d have one anyway. She’d make him take one also.

“With my help, or with my crew’s. It’s up to you love.”  


The man gulped, she could see his Adam’s apple bob, and without a word, he moved towards the tub.

Rose smiled gently at him, like he was a cornered animal, for of course, he was.

He was her prey.

“I thought so.”

A snap of her fingers and her men rushed to follow her commands. The tub was filled to the edge with steaming hot water. Just hot enough to turn one’s skin pink. Not enough to be dangerous, lest her guest get any untoward ideas.

Once she’d threatened him again, he’d finally gone to work on removing the sweat soaked and salt crusted navy uniform he hid inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahem  
> *shuffles feet, looks at floor, and tries not to picture Paul Mcgann in such a scene*
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. prepare to earn the Not Rated rating...  
> *smirks*

It was beyond humiliation, it was the lowest form of cruelty.

That was one way John would never have thought of taking a bath. As a form of torture.

But it felt like it.

The way the Captain watched him as he shed each layer of his uniform made him feel more filthy than the clothing itself.

She didn’t need to hold him at gunpoint; he was still scared to death at the thought of being turned loose alone with her crew.

If they didn’t tear him limb from limb, who knew what else they might do?

He chose to look away from her when he took off the last layer, and stepped into the tub.

It was only mildly scalding, not enough to truly hurt him.

He might have attempted to drown himself, had she not been watching him so closely.

“Am I to wash myself, or did you want that honor, _Captain_?”

The ice he felt in his veins did not temper the hot water as he awaited her reply.

***

Rose grinned to herself. Oh he thought he was spiting her. She heard the venom in his voice, and it only made her blood sing higher.

There was no thrill of the chase for her. For every man she took was always caught, and she _liked_ it that way.

Being Captain had its perks.

“I’ll wash you I think. How else am I to get to know you? Unless you’d like to give me your life story…up until now.”

She swiftly cracked her knuckles, relishing how every pop made him jump slightly, until her hands were finally touching his shoulders, and beginning the futile attempt to relax him.

“I’d rather die than tell you a thing about myself.”

Rose sighed dramatically,

“I figured as much. Not to worry. The strangest tidbits of knowledge always come out when you least expect them to.”

Her hands drifted across his skin and up to rub along his temples, and she bit back a grin when she felt the vibration of a stifled moan throughout his chest.

He may fear her, and expect imminent death, but he was still a man.

“If I didn’t worry you’d try to drown me, I might join you. I still might.”

She whispered against the shell of his ear, before taking it between her teeth, and nibbling it delicately. She relished the shiver he gave, and pretended to think about it.

“So ears are a yes. What else will make you as putty in my hands?”

***

The Captain was a siren. There was no other explanation.

John knew the stories. He knew they were mere myths. But nothing else could possibly explain why someone who wished him harm could be making him feel such things.

It was perfectly sinful how kind she was being, yet he still would do exactly as she guessed, and try to kill her the moment he saw a chance.

He fought to ignore the way her hands felt on him, and when she grew bolder, as if biting his ear playfully hadn’t been bold enough, stroking over his chest and pausing to listen to his erratic heartbeat was the strangest thing.

He could feel the press of her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse against his neck as she shifted around to get a better feel of him.

She wasn’t really doing much in the way of cleaning so much as she made him feel thrice as dirty. There wasn’t actually any soap near the bathtub, but he wasn’t sure how safe it would be to complain about that.

When errant thumbs flicked over his nipples, he inhaled swiftly, and he could feel her laughter echoing around the room.

“There too? Oh my. You are an utter treasure…now tell me, what shall I call you? Love and pet are not fitting names for a man like you.”

He gritted his teeth, and fought the logical part of his brain that was already answering her that he was her reckoning, and her demise.

“John.”

***

Rose’s hands paused in their journey over her trapped prisoner as she heard him answer with a name.

She frowned,

“John? Is that truly your name? Such a plain word. Not fitting to you at all. I think I shall call you ‘Doctor’ for that is the only thing this crew lacks.”

She laughed airily,

“So you see, if someone is injured, the wound will not be treated. They will live with it, or they will die. An excellent way to build character, don’t you think?”

John, her _Doctor,_ made no reply.

Rose pouted, and got back to work, and her hands splayed over his chest, slowly moving downward, to below the surface of the water.

She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, and she grinned. She was already flush to his back, but now she leaned down to slip around and plant a kiss on his cheek, so close to his deliciously kissable lips.

“Tell me Doctor; are you ready for your physical?”

Once again, he remained defiantly silent, but when her questing hands reached their destination, his groan was not stifled quickly enough.

Rose felt her breathing slow, and knew that her vision had changed because her eyes had dilated.

The room dimmed, even as the candles continued to gleam brightly.

“Is that a yes?”

Flesh hardened inside the curl of her fingers, and when she moved them, daring to stroke down further, there was no mistaking his gasp.

“Still human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dunno about you, but i failed the above.  
> and the whole Doctor nickname...well what can i say? Rose has a devious mind, or maybe that's just me...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fans self*  
> Oh is it hot in here or is it just the story?

Yes. He was.

He could not deny that.

Despite the precarious position he was in, John was unable to keep himself still, and unresponsive to her touch.

He’d been at sea for nearly a year, and not even once been on shore leave to visit a brothel, much less the woman he loved.

Or, he thought he loved.

With the way the Captain was dragging him towards the edge of oblivion, he wasn’t certain that he couldn’t have confessed his love for _her_ in that moment.

The instant before he was prepared to whisper her name like the last futile prayer he made, she stopped.

The loss felt like a burn that had been splashed with cold water, yet the ache was still ever present.

“I think you’re clean enough now, Doctor. It’s my turn now.”

He turned to stare at her, sloshing water over the edges of the tub, anger and frustration only part of the reason for his outrage, but she was only smiling calmly at him.

“You heard me. Up and out.”

He finally found his voice.

“What shall I wear? My uniform will only get me dirty again.”

Not bothering to mention how she’d treated him.

Now that he considered it, she hadn’t really been unkind at all.

She shrugged,

“I don’t think clothing suits you. I like you just like that.”

He was standing, indignant in the middle of the tub, water streaming off of him in sheets, and she was leering at him like a true pirate.

Her hands were no longer empty, they were now holding her dagger and pistol again, and he felt the threat die in his throat.

“Very well, _Captain_.”

She smirked,

“I love it when you say my name.”

***

Rose very much liked the sight of her prisoner, her Doctor still in the nude, and painfully aroused beyond control.

It was more emboldening than killing a thousand men in fair naval combat. Not that she _ever_ fought fair.

When a new bath had been heated and poured for her, she gestured for her Doctor to sit down across from her, on her bed, so he could be kept in her line of sight.

He could also see her perfectly.

Weapons were not needed, but she enjoyed having them within her reach.

She reached up to unlace her poet blouse, and leather vest, and they fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. She did not miss the way his eyes flashed over her newly bared assets.

The heat radiating off of her skin was not from the warmth and proximity of her bathwater, it was simply from being watched.

It had been far too long since she had taken a lover. Jack had been a wonderful first mate, and he would be a useful allied captain. But she’d grown tired of him quickly, the moment he’d started to fall for her.

She enjoyed fighting for what she wanted. She didn’t like prey that gave in easily.

When her trousers were kicked aside, she noticed how her Doctor’s eyes followed their path.

Then those expressive blue eyes shot back to her.

If looks could kill.

The phrase slipped into her mind effortlessly, and for some reason, it didn’t even phase her.

She’d barely put one foot into the bathwater, when she felt her nipples tightening.

She knew he’d watched her, the second her leg had lifted.

_He’d looked._

But of course.

She’d left him wanting on purpose.

It was delicious torture bathing while under such scrutiny. She’d half considered selfishly pleasuring herself so he had to watch, but she threw the idea aside almost as soon as it had surfaced.

There was something better than that.

***

He didn’t deny it. He wouldn’t deny it if asked.

Only if asked by someone other than her.

She was stunning.

He’d thought she was an angel for good reason.

Seeing her strip down, unreservedly, and carry on with her bath, clearly a daily occurrence, she was more like a water nymph than a siren.

Perhaps a bit of both.

A deadly mermaid in human form.

His mind was only running wild with such theories because he was dumbstruck by her presence.

The fact she insisted he remain unclothed was unbelievable. Only because he had already pinched himself to prove it wasn’t a dream kept him sane.

Did she derive pleasure out of making him observe her?

There was no other explanation.

He could not find himself able to question her logic.

After she finished, and emerged from the water more elegantly and sensually than should have been allowed, she dried off and slipped a blood red silk robe on.

The length barely covered down to her knees, but it did the job of covering her more bewitching attributes.

Her face was still completely bare to him, as well as her legs.

He was hypnotized, with no hope of rescue.

Once again, he prayed in vain for a quick death, knowing and dreading it would not be granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shoutout to the Master and his semi-torture of Ten with the whole, Say my name thing. Power complexes...what can I say?
> 
>  
> 
> Now since i saw a fantastic graphic with the Master and Rose as his companion, or maybe Dark!Belle(SDoaCG) from Pete's World, i may have to make that my next project.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose had left her weapons behind, and moved to join her Doctor on her bed. Some might have called it recklessly extravagant for a ship’s cabin, but she was the Captain, and she had no care for what others might think.

She had always liked to travel in comfort, and she had gold to burn.

The way he was sitting so stiffly atop the luxurious blankets and silks made her own back feel sore.

“Lean over. Make yourself at home.”

Her hands reached up to attempt to assist him, but somehow he managed to avoid her touch.

Still looking as stiff as a board, he fell back against the cushions.

Rose’s eyes drank him in.

“You look nervous Doctor. Is something the matter?”

Even with his handsome features twisted into a grimace, he managed to defy her,

“No.”

Twin blinks from them both confirmed that they were lying.

“Maybe you just need a massage to relax. I’m good with my hands. I promise. But wait…you already knew that.”

A wink and a smile were all Rose gave him before forcibly nudging him to turn over.

He was now completely at her mercy, his bare back faced her, along with his tantalizing bare bum cheeks.

Rose wasn’t done torturing him, and she leisurely cracked every knuckle again, watching as his shoulder muscles danced in reply.

But then, her hands traced his skin, gently, oh so gently. She frowned as her fingers slipped over what appeared to be a gunshot wound, the scar like a silver star set against his sun tanned skin.

“What happened?”

His voice was muffled by the pillow but she didn’t really care. All she wanted to do was attempt to distract him. She doesn’t want him to hate her. She wanted him to trust her.

All over again, he turned to mush under her touch.

***

John knew he was done for. It was over. The battle had been lost. He may have been facing away from her, but now, at this point, she can do pretty much whatever she pleases with him.

Except it seemed what pleased her at that moment was torturing him into mindless pleasure, _again_.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but this time, when he prays, it’s not for death. It’s for release. Will she let him?

Was this even why she was bothering to give him a massage instead of getting on with his true torture?

The silk of her robe was soft, almost as soft as her skin, but he could tell the difference blindfolded. Even still, the shiver that wracked his body when the sleeve of the robe brushed across his bare arse was enough to catch her notice. How could she not?

He was scared she would laugh.

Instead he heard her breathing quicken. He was suddenly confused. Who was seducing whom?

He no longer knew for certain.

But the hand that followed the graze of the robe was unmistakably hers.

A quick squeeze and the hands had retreated back to his shoulder blades.

He made no comment, but his ears pricked up when he heard her speak.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you naked. Forgive me?”

He might have shaken his head, or he might have shrugged his shoulders. Either way, she understood him.

Now that her hands had returned to innocent areas, he was feeling less of the aching fire burn through his body, but it didn’t mean he was indifferent.

When he heard her shift around, and sudden warmth was brushing over his legs, he realized she had shed the robe, and was straddling him, perhaps to get a better angle to massage him?

Her hair fell down her shoulders to tickle his back and she kissed along his neck, and around up to his ear, her hand brushing aside his own now dry curls.

“I’m so tired. I’ve had a wearing day. Promise you won’t kill me in my sleep if I let you stay?”

He wanted to snarl at her that she would be dead the instant her eyes fall closed.

But then she flipped him over easily and she was straddling his front, even while he was trying to work out how she did that so quickly, the rest of his body was quickly overriding his head.

“Okay.”

It came out in a hushed whisper.

The first honest smile he had seen in a while graced her face, and she leaned in close to kiss his cheek, before slipping down and sliding right up to his side, nuzzling his bare chest with her face.

“Goodnight then Doctor.”

He was much too conflicted to answer.

***

Rose awoke to the normal sounds of orders being shouted and the cawing of seagulls. But something was different.

The arms around her waist, and the insistent nudging at her back.

Even with her eyes still closed tight, she smiled to herself. She shifted her position just slightly, and the arms tightened around her.

“Good morning to you too Doctor.”

She would never know why she decided on that as a demeaning nickname for him, rather than a normal one. But she loves it.

She felt a huff of breath on her skin, and his voice rumbled out of his mouth, tickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

Rose spun around and brushed a hand over his face, eager to see how he would awaken.

Sleep heavy eyelids rose and endless blue orbs pierced her.

She can’t help but gasp,

“Hello.”

He may have echoed the greeting, or may not. She can’t find it in her to care. She’s lunging forward and kissing him, wondering why the hell she didn’t do this last night.

He’s not fighting her, nor is he contributing anything to the kiss. He’s become perfectly passive. Everything she doesn’t want.

She breaks the kiss, and pulls away, wrenching out of his grip.

“I trust you slept well.”

She comments airily as she grabs her red silk robe and ties it on, almost viciously.

He blinked in the bright morning light, and shrugged.

“I suppose it could have been worse…I might not have woken up.”

Rose’s smile was tight.

“I’m glad to see at least part of you is happy to see me.”  
She nods to his morning erection, and he moved to cover himself almost instantly.

She would feel bad, but she’s too angry to care. More with herself than him.

He began to stammer excuses, and she would almost guess he was going to apologize, but she waved her hand about.

“Don’t bother. I’m sure you were just dreaming you were back home with your true love.” Before he can confirm or deny the accusation, she’s gone out the doors to greet her crew, as she does every morning.

She showers them with praise and compliments for a raid well done, and Jack salutes to her from across the bow, over on the Doctor’s ship.

It’s not his anymore.

It’s _Jacks._

Her crew remains in awe of her, all the way through breakfast. While they whisper about what they think went on the night before, she simply remains unreadable. An eerie calm.

***

John almost collapsed with relief when she left the cabin. She had finally left him alone with his thoughts. Not that they were any more welcome than she.

At least they didn’t condemn him with guilt. She even managed to make him feel somewhat cheerful. At least, when she wasn’t humiliating him.

Waking up like _that_ , wasn’t so unusual. Except, she had been wrong. He’d not been dreaming about any girl from back home.

She had been the star of his lust fever induced dreams.

After the state she’d left him in the night before, how could he not?

The number of creative ways she’d used ropes and daggers in his imagination made his skin flush with shame.

He was blessed she’d not even thought to bind him. He kept there only by the threat of harm. Perhaps some would argue the chains that bound him were in his own mind, but he was not reckless or foolish.

He still knew there was a slim chance he would survive. If he was smart enough.

He ran a hand through his sleep messed hair, and counted the seconds as he breathed in and out. An inner strength he’d never had need for except in the heat of battle was being called on in that moment.

The instant she returned, he would be back under her spell. Under her thumb.

Was it wrong that he didn’t dread it quite as much?


	6. Chapter 6

“I brought you something.”

Rose spoke cheerfully as she carried in a small tray of assorted breakfast items. She wasn’t going to assume what the Doctor liked or disliked. Not that living on a pirate ship meant having much variety. But it did mean having exotic things within easier reach than those who resided in colonies.

Fresh honey and pure vanilla to have on steel cut oats cooked in boiling water, for instance.

But she’d arranged for bread and milk and tea to be brought also.

He looked up from where he sat on her bed, head rising from where it had been cradled in his hands. He looked as if he’d been deep in thought.

She tried not to see the evidence of obvious grief in the wetness around his eyes, for she knew that it was not to be stopped.

“Are you hungry?”

She tried again to start a conversation, and when he didn’t actively avoid her gaze, she sat down beside him, gingerly and cautiously.

“I am. Thank you.”

He finally spoke, and his voice was so rough and ragged with emotion, she nearly dropped the tray.

“Here. Try this first. It’s the most magical thing you’ve ever tasted.”

Without a thought, she stuck her finger into the bowl of honey, ignoring the dipper, and held it out towards his mouth.

It was not a trick, and yet he still looked as if he was frightened of her.

He reached up slowly and steadied her wrist with his fingers clasped around it, before leaning forward to lick her finger.

His lips wrapped around the digit and she fought back the shiver of arousal that shot through her as his tongue caressed and curled around her fingertip.

He groaned, whether from delight at the flavor, or something else, and Rose had felt her body flush with heat.

She pulled away and watched through half lidded eyes as his own blue orbs were threatened to be overtaken by his wide pupils.

He’d liked it, perhaps more than she.

“Good?”

She whispered, not ready to break the moment.

He could only nod, and she smiled gently at him.

“It’s all yours. Please, eat your fill. I must see to business, I am still Captain after all.”

A wry smile replaced her gentle one, and she whistled, her hawk Kukor flying in the open door and landing on her outstretched arm.

She watched as the Doctor’s eyes widened.

“He’s my closest ally. I think you’ve met him before, yes?”

The Doctor nodded silently, eyes focused on her darkly colored bird.

He was a beautiful creature. Beautiful and loyal, far more than could be said of any of her crew.

She rose to her feet, and jerked her head outdoors,

“Come find me when you’re ready. Until then.”

She forced herself not to look back as she walked out into the morning sunshine.

***

John was in absolute shock.

The bloodthirsty captain had a bird for a pet, and not the usual parrot that pirates supposedly worshiped. She’d brought him a hot breakfast, and then given him the sweetest honey he’d ever known.

He felt his cheeks flush with shame at the memory. The wanton way he’d sucked the sweet syrup off her finger. He could only attempt to blame it on the previous night’s events.

She’d gotten him so riled up; he’d taken any chance to diffuse some of the tension.

The sound he had uttered had not been voluntary. He’d been certain she was about to pounce on him, and had only left him out of her strange sense of duty.

He snorted in disdain. Pirates believing in duty.

A great many things could be called such.

The fact he was still alive was rapidly approaching such a term.

He had a horrible feeling that the instant she grew tired of him, he would be food for the savages, whether they belonged in the water or on it.

The Captain had been entirely too patient, and the fact she’d left him alone, unguarded, at least inside the cabin, to finish his breakfast was unnerving.

He found himself wishing he’d thought to put something on. For she’d been gone nearly an hour, surely she was due back any instant?

He sighed, and tried to resign himself to his fate. Better to let her get it over with, than delay the inevitable.

He raked a hand through his short curls and regretted the amount of tea he’d consumed. The caffeine from the drink was making him even more nervous than he had already felt in the last couple dozen hours.

***

Rose returned to her cabin, after having left Kukor in the capable hands of Astrid, her new first mate. She was pleasantly surprised to see the Doctor had remained in the same outfit he’d had on when she’d went to tend to her duties.

Nothing but her bed sheet.

Her usual smirk fell effortlessly into place.

“Did you miss me?”

She asked him while she kicked the door shut behind her and he shrugged,

“What would you like me to say? A lie or the truth?”

Rose sighed, and kicked off her boots, toes eagerly breathing and kneading the wooden floor.

“I never want you to lie to me to spare my feelings.”

She stopped right in front of him, and her hand lifted his chin up so he was forced to meet her gaze.

There was anger in his eyes, and resentment lining his mouth, but he still appeared extremely relaxed despite the situation.

“I was hoping you’d fallen overboard.”

Rose blinked, stunned by his bluntness. Her hand holding his face gripped tighter, and she relished the wince that broke his serene expression.

“Thank you.”

The words were a whisper, and a lie of her own. She didn’t want to hear that. She only wanted to hear him beg to be set free, or something along similar lines. The effortless way he made her consider her own actions was disarming.

She was much too involved now. She needed him to love her. To adore her. To want to serve her. To never want to leave.

Her hand moved from his chin to stroke up across his cheek and over his temples.

Her head tilted to the side as she looked at him, watching her, silent as the grave.

Though she had not been overly warm when she entered the cabin, she could feel heat radiating off of him in waves. So much she could almost taste it.

Maybe his mind was unwilling, but his body nearly screamed for her. How she’d love to hear a true scream fall from those lips.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, fitting perfectly between his sheet clad legs, and her arms entwined about his neck, pulling him into a fierce kiss.

She was embracing him, unthinking about how dangerous this position could be. If he had a dagger, a discovered one or one of her own, she could easily be taking her last kiss.

But she didn’t care.

He opened his mouth to gasp and she took the advantage, plundering the breath he would have exhaled, and with a tender probing she engaged his tongue in a knee melting dance.

She already knew how dangerous his tongue could be, and though she wanted to take full benefit of that, she doubted he would be open to the idea.

No matter. She’d show him how it was done.

She pulled away from him, a barely audible noise indicating the separating of their lips, and she exhaled slowly,

“Lie back, and get rid of that.”

Her free hands plucked at the sheet, and if she’d not been so focused on how delicious he looked after being thoroughly kissed, she might have caught the blush on his cheeks.

She was prepared to ravage him, and then she could be content.

Only after he whispered her name as a prayer, one that would not be futile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifting to the two most vocal of my readers, I hope you don't mind!

What had John gotten himself into? He’d sat there like a statue as the Captain had kissed him, and then she’d told him to remove the one protection he still had.

If he pretended that what she’d done hadn’t affected him, then he had a chance to avoid further embarrassment. But no.

She clearly was after one thing.

It seemed last night had only been the glimpse, the hint of what was to come.

When her hand had stroked his face, soft and welcome as a sea breeze, he’d almost been able to forget he was her prisoner.

He could pretend she was his lover, his beautiful girl he’d finally returned home to.

Night was the time for dreams, and it was barely past midday. He returned to the present when he felt her hands on him again, for he had not acted quickly enough, and the sheet was hindering her view of him. He had to remember that. He lived to serve her whims now.

“I’m sorry.”

His hands shook as he moved to obey, but she waved them off.

“I can handle a measly sheet I think.”

A warm hand pressed against his chest, and he was complying, lying back against the bed, as she crept atop him, and scattered kisses as faint and quick as butterfly wings over his face, just avoiding his mouth.

Her hands roamed his body freely, and he couldn’t fight the feelings she was arousing within him. He’d been dreading this moment, but he couldn’t quite remember why.

When her fingers slipped over his sensitive skin, he gasped aloud.

His eyes had fallen closed, so he couldn’t see her face, but he imagined she appeared smug.

Her chest vibrated as she purred in delight, and he knew she was smiling against his mouth as her lips finally met his.

“You did miss me.”

Her voice is a hushed murmur, like the crashing of a wave on the shore. The shore of his subconscious perhaps?

It was not a dream.

She had taken him in her hand, and he was fighting the urge to thrust forward mindlessly against her touch. Already, too soon, much too soon, he feels the long forgotten coil beginning to tighten.

His heartbeat was no doubt hammering double time inside his chest, and he was certain she could hear it. How could she not? It was as loud as cannon fire to his ears.

She moved her hand, and with a pained groan, he was lost, fallen over that edge of bliss.

The Captain probably laughed at him, but his ears had filled with the roar of the sea, the utter ocean of satisfaction he was awash in, and he can hear none but that.

“Relax.”

He knew he must be dreaming, for she had suddenly shifted downward, and appeared to be licking him. Tasting him. He knew of such a thing, talked about among his men, of whores who would make a man go near blind with pleasure, and yet, somehow it had seemed too debauched to even consider a woman doing.

Not for her it seemed.

She hummed with her lips still around him, and he groaned again. It was too soon, he was hyperaware of every touch, any brushing of fingers on skin, and that, the most erotic of kisses was only meant to drive him more insane with need.

“Never had that done before? You’re the first who’s gotten this aboard my ship. Not sure if you’ll be the last.”

She winked at him. His mind was much too fractured and drained to even consider what she was saying precisely.

Maybe it was better that way.

***

Rose couldn’t believe it. The Doctor had never been with a skilled woman in his life. It could have been worse. He could have been a virgin.

She nearly shuddered at the shiver of pleasure that shot down her spine at that thought. She’d never actually had an innocent before.

She looked forward to that day.

But for now? She was relishing him.

After she’d finished teasing him, and finally granted one release, it was time for the main event.

She shed her simple dark blue sheath and kicked away her black pants. She’d not dressed in elaborate attire so as to make it that much simpler to return to him.

The instant cool air hit drifted over her bared skin, she shivered again. She ground against him, feeling his softened cock beginning to stir almost instantly.

She smiled knowingly, and let her hands drift over his chest, pausing only to tweak his nipples, thus regaining his attention.

His eyes flew open and latched onto hers almost instantly.

“Well? Any thoughts?”

She asked with a smirk, and she as saw him swallow, she was suddenly afraid she could be crushing him, so she shifted her hips, and clenched her muscles over him.

He inhaled sharply and could only shake his head in reply.

She took that as a good sign. It only took a momentary adjustment, and with a touch of her hand, he was sheathed inside her.

It felt incredible to her.

Rose would never admit to being weak, but she knew it had been much too long since she’d had a good hard ride.

She moved slowly, cautiously, as she didn’t want to hurt him.

He was more than ready, probably prepared to go off again in a moment, but she didn’t want to exploit his hypersensitivity.

Or did she?

A twist of her hips, and squeeze of her muscles and he was panting underneath her, and she gripped his shoulders for leverage, not caring when her nails dug into his tanned skin.

Maybe they drew blood, and maybe they didn’t.

The noises he was making couldn’t be protests, they sounded too much like pleadings.

Rose’s mouth parted as she felt her orgasm approaching, and unbidden, her eyes fell closed. Somehow, he knew what to do, and when his hands slipped up her legs to grip her hips, holding her tightly to him, she started moving faster.

A breathy moan fell from his lips, and though it was a far cry from a scream, Rose couldn’t say she’d heard anything more beautiful.

She forced her eyes open, and fought to keep her gaze on his face, to watch him as he crashed into the crescendo of his climax, but her own orgasm surprised her and stole her free will momentarily.

Her hips kept moving atop his, as her inner walls clamped around him, she knew he would feel the aftershocks.

When the sensations finally halted, Rose collapsed over him, and he did not protest her weight, not the fact he was still inside her.

She smiled dreamily against his chest, and drew mindless shapes on his skin as her eyes fluttered shut.

“I guess I’ll have to keep you now.”

***

John couldn’t quite fathom it. Why he felt safe, and secure all at once.

He was still a prisoner aboard the crew of the Bad Wolf.

Ship of Bad Wolf.

Where had the idea of crew come from?

The cabin was pitch black, and he couldn’t see his own hand if he’d held it in front of his face, but something was different.

Despite the fact he still held the golden haired Captain in his arms, and she slept on, he could no longer face the world of imagination and fantasy.

He held no love for dreams.

Something she had said.

What was it?

No matter, but he no longer felt like fighting her, or for a way out.

In fact, all he could find that he felt was trust. Admiration even.

He winced suddenly as she shifted against him, and he felt his shoulder stinging.

He lifted a hand to touch it and it felt wet.

Was he bleeding?

She’d done it. She’d broken the skin when she’d shattered around him.

He couldn’t help smiling at the thought. It was as if she’d claimed him. It was nice to be wanted like that.

He frowned. Nice?

Wanted by a Pirate?

Perhaps he was still asleep, and dreaming the entire argument with his subconscious in vain.

He couldn’t be sure.

The blackness stole over him almost unnoticed.

***

“What happened? Who are you, really?”

Rose smiled at him, with a strange and mysterious and different expression than he’d ever seen.

“You were right Doctor. I am a siren, of a fashion. Welcome to the crew.”

He wouldn’t think about it, or argue the point. He just was.

He was a member of the Bad Wolf’s crew, and he would serve her loyally, for as long as he lived.

***

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhh I know. I thought of the ending about halfway through, and i couldn't think of a better one. so yeah. hope you liked this bit of deviousness, and be sure to read my newest story "Forgiveness" for more eight/rose :D


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